Harry Potter and The Disreputable History of Leo Black
by Kansh
Summary: In that moment Harry decided that this whole Master of Death business should have come with some sort of disclaimer. This was not at all what he'd imagined would happen when he decided to come back and save his parents. He should have gone back, stopped Voldemort a few decades earlier, and then lived happily ever after, not gotten stuck in the past masquerading as the newest Black.
1. The Gambler

**_"But- why can't I resurrect? Yes! It only takes being calculating and patient at least once in your life and- that's all! It only takes being steadfast at least once,and in an hour I can change my whole destiny!" From 'The Gambler' by Fyodor Dostoyevsky_**

 _"Avada Kedavra"._ The shout came from one of the few remaining Death Eaters, hitting him in what was probably an attempt to avenge their downed master.

Disoriented, Harry barely had time to process the words before the spell impacted for the second time that night.

When he opened his eyes this time he found that instead of being dead -as he'd been half expecting- he was back again on that train platform in his mind. Only this time, instead of Professor Dumbledore and the blackened, deformed body of a baby Tom Riddle, he was received by what years and years of muggle culture indicated to be the Grim Reaper.

"Master" The word seemed to come from the black clothed skeleton, though Harry could only guess at how the being spoke, seeing as the bones of the face and jaw hadn't moved. "Welcome back" The Reaper addressed him.

"Master?" Harry questioned, wondering about his mental sanity, having once again fallen into an Avada-Kedavra-induced delusion, and, really, how common were those anyway? "I'm sorry, but who the hell are you? And, did you really just call me Master?"

Thus began what Harry would later label as the most bizarre conversation in his admittedly already weird life.

.

Apparently, Dumbledore hadn't been as- ahem, _eccentric_ as Harry had been led to believe.

In the end, The Tale of the Three Brothers had originated from a real encounter with Death, the being of which he was now the reluctant master of. It turns out that, in a misguided attempt at helping Harry defeat Voldemort and not die in the process, the former headmaster had instead accidentally given him an immortal entity as a slave.

"So now I can't die?" Harry tried to wrap his mind around this. As Death had explained, the train station in his mind was not in his mind at all, but was rather his very own personal purgatory, from which, if he had been at all normal, he would have boarded the train to either Heaven or Hell, or whatever other place his soul recognized those concepts as. He would never have guessed religion to be so subjective.

The catch though, was that as he was his Master, Death wouldn't be able to take him as he had everybody else. The same idea as to how a house elf wouldn't be able to command its owner while bound in service.

"No, the balance must be maintained, a mortal body cannot live forever, but your immortal soul, My Master, and all of its knowledge I cannot take as mine, for it is you who own me." His newly declared servant repeated that same sentence for what must have been the tenth time.

Harry still couldn't wrap his mind around this. He understood, in a theoretical sense, that rebirth was a possibility. It was even an idea that he had toyed with while in the Horocrux hunt, what would have happened if one of the horocruxes had fallen into the hands of a pregnant mother, or a new born baby. Would Voldemort have been reborn, calling all the pieces of soul to his new body? Or would he simply be absorbed by the original soul? Was there even an 'original' piece after the last one had been vanished when he was one year old? From his perspective they all acted the same- looking for a body and ways to kill him. And if there was, was the original the first piece of soul to be made a horocrux, or the last remaining in the body?

Still, it wasn't an idea he had ever discussed with anyone. Even less a possibility he had considered for himself.

It had its advantages though; his Slytherin side wouldn't let him forget that, because, since his soul could not be taken, as long as there was a healthy body to return to, he would be sent back again. This in essence meant that he was now officially immune to the Avada curse, which, for all that it magically killed any living thing that touched it; it left behind a perfectly damage-free workable body.

"So, say, if I boarded that train" Harry pointed to the afterlife version of the Hogwarts Express that had just arrived on the platform. "Where would it take me?"

"Death is timeless, Master. You are my commander, and as such, yours are my abilities."

Huh. That was certainly unexpected.

So, not only AK-proof, but, once dead, his body having given up and beyond repair, he could just board the train, travel a bit through time and space.

He wondered what would happen if he boarded the train now. His body was intact, so he would probably drag it backward or forward with him as he went. Would the world rearrange itself and give him an identity, a life already lived that he would be stepping into? Or would he be dropped in the middle of nowhere and forced to forge an identity for himself amidst suspicion?

 _Could-_ could he change time? If he traveled back in time with this body, would he be able to save his parents? Save Sirius?

His mind whirled with the possibilities.

Maybe he wouldn't be coming back to Ron and Hermione after all. Whenever he made gambles like this they tended to pay off –then again, he'd had his own fair share of close calls…

What was life without a little bit of risk anyway?

And suddenly, his Gryffindor side decided to come out to play. Before he could over think his plan through and chicken out he snapped into action. Not giving Death time to object, he jumped into the train and willed it to return to the past, back to the early 1980's. Harry concentrated his thoughts on Voldemort and all the grief he'd given him when his younger self was turned into a Horocrux, of all the pain he could spare the wizarding world and his infant self if the war was ended before Trelawney could give that damning prophecy.

Guided by his thoughts, the train started to move.

.

When Harry returned to the world of the living once more, he started to really question what he had done. Was he really so self-sacrificing that he'd given up his new danger-free life as the Man-Who-Conquered in order to fight Voldemort again in the off chance that if would save even more people?

Yes, apparently he was.

And the plan hadn't even worked; maybe he should have stayed in that train station, questioned Death a little more, and not _bloody assumed_ that having a perfectly fine soulless body in the future and his also perfectly fine body-less soul in the past meant that the two would somehow reconnect themselves wherever he wanted.

He really should have remembered how the whole 'follow the spiders' fiasco had turned out before going off following yet another gut feeling.

No, that was not at all how the whole affair worked, because, as he found out as soon as he opened his eyes in this new world, he was not in the forbidden forest –or Godric's Hollow– and he was not in his eighteen year old body.

Instead, he was in a cave that he faintly remembered as the one he had visited with Dumbledore in his past life, only about a year and a half ago. A cave that he could unfortunately confirm as being infected with inferi, given that he was watching before his very eyes as a young man battled with a horde of them. Wanting to get up and help the poor sod who'd ended in what he and Ron referred to as 'Voldemort's Horocrux Cave of Death', he came upon the realization that he was not, in fact, inhabiting his trusty old body. He knew he was in some kind of body, simply because he could feel it, he knew he had all five senses, and he knew, in that same instinctual way, that he was sitting in the cold floor. He was, however, watching the scene for a much, much lower point of view than that which he was used to, and when he tried to stand up, he discovered that his motor skills were not what he remembered them to be.

Rather than getting up and helping in the fight as his brain ordered, the new body started to cry.

Wonderful

This was really one of those situations that only Harry could get himself into, and that exclusiveness was not due to his own unique status as Master of Death. No, it was all due to his unique status as fate's whipping boy, because, if he was reading the situation correctly, Harry had been reborn as a baby.

Upon this realization the body cried even harder.

Something that turned out to be a good reaction, as it caught the attention of the guy fighting for his life a few meters away.

Seeing a baby crying not far away, the fighter quickly ran to Harry's side, wanting to protect his defenseless baby-self from the inferi that were closing in around them. It was on the moment that the stranger picked up what he must have thought was a baby that had accidentally apparated, that Harry remembered which horocrux exactly was the one that had been hidden in the cave.

 _R.A.B's horocrux_

Regulus Arcturus Black

The mystery savior that had given his life to make Harry's task easier, and the wizard that Kreacher later confirmed to have been his godfather's kid brother. This lifted Harry's spirit, because, while he had not taken Sirius' brother into consideration in his saving-the-world-plan, he knew how Regulus' death had affected him, and even though he had hated Kreacher with every single fiber of his being, his inner Hermione cheered at the chance to make a house elf happy.

Finally knowing on whose arms he was, and being able to make an educated guess as to the year and the circumstances on which he arrived, Harry called upon his magic. The pressure that had been building up ever since he got off the train finally released, and in a burst of light Harry grabbed a hold of it and pushed, trying to break through Voldemort's anti-apparition wards and get both himself and Regulus to safety.

While Regulus tried to both maneuver Harry, and control his fiendfyre spell, Harry prodded the wards looking for an out. It was after what felt like ages but must have been a couple of seconds that he was able to concentrate on his wonky-feeling magic and break the both of them out of there. Or rather, break himself out of the cave and into Grimmauld place, with Regulus tagging along.

Disoriented after his escape, Harry thought, for about five minutes, that his idea to bring the both of them to Grimmauld Place -where help could be found in the form of Kreacher- had been a stroke of genius. That is, until he realized that Orion and Walburga Black hadn't died yet, and that both of them had been having afternoon tea in the parlor where he apparated.

It was Walburga's outraged screech, along with Kreacher's tearful cry for Regulus, the couple things that Harry was last aware of before both himself and Black collapsed from exhaustion.

.

.

 _ **I know, I shouldn't be starting another story so soon, but i really couldn't help**_ ** _myself. To the people following my WC story, expect another update either tomorrow or the day after, as soon as my Beta is done proofreading._**

 ** _About this story: not much I can say, it got stuck in my head, and is just something I would have liked to read at some point or another. The chapter names are going to be titles of books that I recommend, and I'll drop a line about the book at the end of each chapter._**

 ** _Tell me what you think!_**

 ** _About 'The Gambler': Pretty good, for some reason it makes me think of the Great Gatsby -you know, the whole money issue and escaping from who you were?- but Dostoyevsky is surprisingly funny, in that dry, ruskin humor sort of way. Its a longish read, but totally worth it._**


	2. The Importance of being Earnest

_**"Relations are simply a tedious pack of people, who haven't got the remotest knowledge of how to live, nor the smallest instinct about when to die"**_

 _ **"The truth isn't quite the sort of thing one tells to a nice, sweet, refined girl" - From 'The Importance of being Earnest' by Oscar Wilde**_

* * *

The next time he opened his eyes –and really, this opening his eyes to weird shit seemed to be the leitmotif of his post-Voldemort life– Harry was in a comfortable crib in Regulus' room, while the man himself peered into his face.

So that must have been what woke him up.

"Hey there little guy" Regulus greeted with soft eyes and an even softer voice. "Mother is giving me time to recuperate, but she really wants to know why I arrived in the state I was in and who is the strange baby that I brought with me". Tickling Harry's tummy, he elicited a giggle from the boy before sighing. "I really would like to know the same, your parents –if they are even alive in this times– must be worried sick about you"

"It wasn't easy to get my parents to give me a few minutes to rest, work out a story if I can, Merlin knows they wouldn't be happy with the truth. Never mind that their only remaining son had just collapsed in front of them after appearing through previously-impenetrable wards with a strange baby. Sometimes I wish I'd taken the 'Sirius Black Route' instead of simply moving to the Wales Black property. I can't leave them though, they are still my family, as cruciatus-prone as they are. I bet you wouldn't be able to leave your family either, eh little guy?" Regulus ran a haggard hand through his hair, wondering how on earth he would go about explaining to Walburga Black the fact that he'd decided to leave the Dark Lord's service. He sincerely hoped that his parents were as repulsed by the idea of a madman splitting his soul in half as he himself had been. He didn't think that Sirius would be too keen in taking him in, and all of his former friends and acquaintances were still conscripted slaves to the megalomaniac. His parents, as always, were his best shot at survival.

Orion Black for his part could go either way about the whole deal. He was devoted to the pureblood cause, but not as extreme as his mother tended to be. Nevertheless, the patriarch would perceive it as a blow to his pride that his useless son had to be saved by a baby of all things. He really needed to find the tike's family though, how on earth a little one-year-old boy had managed to apparate at that cave when babies weren't supposed to start doing accidental magic until at least four or five years old was somewhat of a mystery.

Regulus really needed to figure what to do with the baby. It shouldn't have been possible for the little guy to even get inside the cave, least of all get out, and even if they got out, the Black wards should have ejected him as soon as they made contact, not allowed him safe passage. Wondering what was happening, Regulus combed his hair back, a nervous habit that he had picked out from Sirius when they were kids.

Harry sighed internally at Regulus' lack of recognition. So, he was a nameless baby staying with another Black traitor son and no idea of where he would go from here, or even if the Blacks would understand Regulus' motivations, instead of delivering the traitor on a platter to Voldemort. He sincerely hoped that the Black family had as strong a sense of familiar duty as the Malfoys had led him to believe all purebloods have. If not for Regulus' sake then for his own, since it appeared that his well-being was tied with the older man's for the moment.

Well, there was _that_ original question answered. Apparently, he would have to forge an identity for himself, no readymade excuse given to him by the universe.

He really needed to communicate with Regulus. If he interpreted the younger Blacks complaint right, then they would have to work on a cover story, because simply explaining what had been going on would never fly with the elder Black couple. Furthermore, he was in dire need of an alternate identity, seeing as he had not been born yet and had no desire to end as 'test subject number 15' down in the vowels of the Department of Mysteries.

Looking into Black's concerned blue-grey eyes, Harry had an epiphany. Without breaking eye contact, and praying that his plan would work, he sent a legillimency probe.

After first contact Regulus reared back in shock. Harry had crashed against occlumency shields -not that he'd expected otherwise- but it had given the big guy the idea of proving into his baby mind. It was, unfortunately, the only sure fire way Harry had of communicating, given that any attempt at talking would come out in babbles until he re-learned how to work a body. Even though he'd never understood anything but the most basic and useless of occlumency techniques he had still learned enough under Snape's tutelage to be able to send legillimency probes. Never mind that according to the greasy git he was 'As subtle as a bull in a china shop', he needed Regulus to feel the intrusion for this to work.

Frowning in confusion, Regulus peered once again into the baby's eyes, only to find himself drawn into his mind. Expecting to find out a couple of memories of the parents, and maybe an explanation as to how he got into and out of that cave, Regulus tentatively explored the little guy's memories.

Needless to say, he was surprised.

Harry quickly worked into getting Regulus to see the important bits and pieces that he could remember of his life as Harry Potter, shoving the relevant memories to the forefront of his mind, ending with a request for Regulus to forge him some kind of identity so that he could continue on in his merry way.

Once Regulus was up to date he exited his mind and continued to gaze at him in wonder. Just as Harry started squirming uncomfortably, thinking that maybe telling Regulus hadn't been his best idea, Kreacher popped into existence beside them.

"Young Master, Mistress requires your presence and the baby sirs in the drawing room" He said with a beaming smile at both himself and Regulus, who answered an absentminded "Thanks Kreacher, tell her we'll be there in a second" without looking away.

Still looking transfixed, Regulus summoned an elaborate, ancient looking knife from a drawer in his desk.

Putting up what Harry recognized as an advanced privacy ward, Regulus turned to look at him with a serious expression.

"How would you feel about being a Black?" He asked as he simultaneously slashed his hand, blood gurgling lazily from the wound.

Harry had a second to confirm that he wasn't against the idea before Regulus was covering his face with blood from the hand he had cut and chanting in Latin.

As the chanting finished, a flash of light left Harry temporarily blind while a tingling traveled all over his body and magic. Regulus meanwhile was still working on their cover, as he scrougyfied Harry and assured him that he'd be up to Black history in no time, and not to worry, as a baby he wasn't really expected to know anything of substance yet.

Harry had no idea what was happening around him, but judging from the older man's expression he already had a workable plan. He hesitated to call it anything more than that, given that the gleam in his eyes was disturbingly similar to the one Harry himself had whenever he decided to 'go and save the philosopher's stone' or his new top-worst-decision 'travel back in time to save his parents'. He really had too much experience with that particular expression to be anything but cautiously weary.

Picking him up, Regulus spelled Harry's robes into something befitting his new status as the youngest member of the Most Noble and Ancient house of Black before dissipating the ward and stepping out of the room.

Being carried through Grimmauld Place, Harry took advantage of the moment to see what the Ancestral house of the Blacks looked like before it had fallen into disrepair at the hands of a depressed house elf and a deranged portrait.

He had to admit that he was impressed, he had known, in an abstract sense that all Blacks grew up in the lap of luxury. Even Andromeda, who had been disowned, had still been given a hefty inheritance - Harry wasn't sure if Sirius' money had been part of his 'leaving the family bonus' or a present from his crazy uncle as an 'I'm glad you finally left those people' gift, maybe a bit of both?- But the fact remained that no Black, former or not, ever lived in poverty. However, seeing it firsthand was a shock to the system.

Over his head, Harry could feel Regulus' chest rumbling with suppressed amusement at his gawking.

"Once we are done with my parents I'll give you a tour, you'll like the place" As Regulus finished talking they walked into the drawing room.

"Regulus" Orion's stern voice broke through their rather one-sided conversation. "I believe you owe your mother and I an explanation"

"Yes father". Regulus inclined his head, "I have left the Dark Lord's service" He stated without preamble.

Harry couldn't believe that Regulus had decided to simply break the news without first softening the blow. He couldn't possibly expect the Blacks to just pat him in the head and let him leave without protest, could he? Even he knew that they were far to devoted to those pureblood ideals Voldemort loved to go on and on about, to do anything but shoot first, ask questions later.

His theory was proved correct when, seconds later, Regulus had to erect a shield to stop the red spell that came flying towards him from Walburga's wand. Keeping his defense up under a barrage of spells while maneuvering the tiny body on his arms Regulus grunted.

"Will you at least do me the service of allowing me to explain myself? I refuse to let the Noble Black family bow to a man such as the one on whose service I have been bound."

That did the trick, as immediately after the spells ceased and Walburga bit out a terse "Explain" at her remaining son.

Regulus, not wanting to give back any inch he had gained, went directly for the kill. He was inexplicably glad that the kid in his arms had been able to give him what information he had. After all, locked in that little head there had been knowledge he himself had not been privy to before, and which could prove to be invaluable in swaying his parents —or his mother at least, he was sure his father would have deeply grieved the loss of another son to the turbulent political climate.

Deciding to apply his newly found knowledge, Regulus flashed his mother a bitter smile. "I decided upon this course of action after coming to the realization that the Dark Lord is nothing more than a bastard mudblood born from a dishonored Slytherin branch" Regulus stated, proceeding then to wipe out his wand and trace 'Tom Marvolo Riddle' in the air, illustrating the anagram in the same way he had seen the horocrux do it in Harry's memory.

Amidst his parents' shocked protestations, the younger Black brother then began to tell his parents about how he had joined the Death Eaters, swayed by the pressure both at home and at school, never really caring about the mudbloods one way or the other. As he recounted his recruitment, and gradual disillusionment with the cause that he'd never really believed in, Harry watched transfixed, hearing a side of the story that he'd never been privy to before.

He spoke of being _crusio_ -ed by a man that was ashamed of wearing his family name in public, of watching the half-blood Snape torture and kill a pureblood –by all means his superior– simply for standing for an opposing political party. He recounted his mounting doubts, and how the metaphorical straw that broke the camel's back came in the form of the murder of his fiancé Evangeline Rosier at the hands of the madman commanding them.

The fact that Regulus had once been engaged came as a surprise for Harry, but, judging from the elder Blacks' faces they had already been informed both of the engagement and the murder. He supposed that, with Sirius being estranged, and then later death of all of his immediate family while imprisoned, it was possible that he'd never known his little brother had almost been married.

"You should not take my lack of involvement as a sign that I question the cause, or have different political views. Rather, you should know that, as always, i am far more interested in science, and any involvement in politics I have always found tedious and redundant. I am not going to sacrifice my life and that of my loved ones for a pass-time that I find no joy in, following of a man unworthy of leading a Black." Regulus sniffed disdainfully, eliciting a wry grin from his father. Apparently, the man was already familiar with Regulus' distaste for blood and politics.

While Harry pondered this news, Regulus continued to explain the familiar sequence of events that led to Kreacher's involvement with the Dark Lord and how, having already lost his fiancé he refused to let the man take anything more from him.

He could see, much to his relief, the horrified faces of both Orion and Walburga Black when the horocrux was mentioned. How to properly dabble in the Dark Arts without losing one's mind was, after all, a critical part of the upbringing of any member of the house of Black. It made sense then that a muggle-raised wizard would have no idea of how to properly go about it, seeing as each family had their own undisclosed methods, which were guarded as fiercely as the family spells. The Dark families carried this practice through nevertheless, Walburga sniffed at even thinking what the reaction of a blood traitor would be if ever confronted with Dark Magic.

As the story progressed, Harry's perception of Regulus changed drastically. He could see —behind the pureblood Death Eater mask and the framing the story took in order to appease his parents— the man that wanted to live life according to his own values, the teenager who had been pressured into bowing, but pulled himself up on his own, without scurrying into the arms of a new master –much like Snape had done– and finding a way to help from the shadows.

The story ended with Regulus retrieving the horocrux form the cave, Harry apparating to him, and Regulus fleeing for their lives.

Having been lulled into a peaceful semi-sleeping state by his thoughts and the soft tones in which the Blacks now carried their conversation, Harry was suitably shocked into wakefulness upon hearing Regulus answer the question of Harry's identity with a calm "My son".

Startled, his body cried.

.

Harry was not the only one shocked by the proclamation, if the Blacks' reactions were anything to go by.

Instantly asking for his ancestry, Walburga started bemoaning the noble Black name being stained by a bastard being born into the main line. What would the Rosier's think? Disrespecting their daughter and her memory in such a way.

"Stop" Orion's commanding voice broke through the cacophony caused by Harry's crying, Walburga's screeching and Regulus' desperate shushing and rocking of his infant self.

"Who is the mother?" He inquired of his son.

Just like that, Regulus started talking once again, spinning a sordid tale, that, had Harry not known beforehand was a load of hippogriff dung he would have swallowed whole.

Apparently, Evangeline Rosier had been Sirius' year mate, and, after graduating, they continued seeing each other during Hogsmeade weekends. The story continued to detail a torrid affair that ended in a hasty marriage, a pretend engagement and a secret pregnancy all while Regulus was being recruited by the Death Eaters and finishing his NEWTs. The dates were close enough that Regulus could pretend that the only reason he'd left his parent's house was the secret birth of his son, rather than the probably more honest answer of being fed up with his mother's screeching. Luckily for both of them Evangeline had been the quintessential Slytherin in the fact that she kept her cards close to her heart, so claiming that she'd glamorized her growing stomach and not told anyone about her marriage wasn't as difficult as one would have thought.

Spinning a tale about deciding to keep the existence of their son a secret until the end of the war, for fear of him becoming a target for either Dark wizard catchers or other dark wizards themselves, Regulus fretted about his supposed son's accidental magic transporting him to the cave with the horocrux, looking for his father, their escape, and his fear at being a single father. Not really knowing how to take care of a baby.

In the end, it was a cooing Walburga, looking into the face of her first ever grandson, that asked the important question.

"What did you name him?"

The world paused for a second, and both Harry's and Regulus' hearts skipped a beat.

Then Regulus once again opened his mouth "Cor Leonis". He answered with a certainty that Harry was sure he was not really feeling. "Named after my same star, we settled on the Latin variant when Evangeline declared, in a fit, that she refused to see her son named something as crude and ostentatious as the Greek interpretation, Basiliscus".

Walburga, who had pulled a face at her grandson's Gryffindor name, seemed placated at the explanation. Regulus must have though the name –and the imagery attached to a name such as Lion Heart– fitted him, what with his tendency towards noble self sacrificing.

Having decided that he liked his new name, Harry –Leo, now– snuggled deeper into his new pretend father's arms. There would be time to discuss their new situation with Regulus in the future, right now, his body was exhausted.

.

Throughout the next couple of months the newly named Leo settled into a new routine at Grimmauld place, which consisted mostly of eating and sleeping, sometimes broken by a few minutes of talking or playing with Regulus and just generally getting to know the man.

It was during these conversations that he got to know the fact that there had never been such an affair as the one he'd described to his parents in Regulus' life. His engagement had rather been a convenient political alliance between casual friends, and while it hurt, Rosier's murder hadn't called forth any sentiments that were not already there towards the mad man.

Regulus had known going in that the man was ruthless, but it wasn't until he got into the inner circle that he realized the lengths to which Riddle would go. By the time of Rosier's murder, Regulus was starting to become desensitized to the whole thing. It hurt, seeing your friends become cold-blooded murderers, it hurt even more to see those you loved killed, but Regulus was only seventeen, and he could see no way out of the vicious cycle. That is, until Kreacher - wonderful, loyal Kreacher- had come to him with a tale that took Voldemort's madness to a whole new level. That was when he had decided, he either died doing what was right, weakening the madman, or he got killed and hunted down by his friends, but he couldn't continue to live his life with the way it was going.

The newest Black also got to know more about the blood ritual his new father had performed during his first day at Grimmauld place. A ritual which consisted of drawing blood runes on the skin of the new member of the family while chanting some traditional Latin words to the effect of welcoming him or her.

When he asked about it, Regulus explained that the use of blood runes was strictly prohibited by the ministry, and that if they ever got wind of what he'd done he would be in Azkaban faster than you could say 'Dementor'. There were other, more thorough ways of being blood adopted, most of which involved potions, but the advantages of using blood runes were not only in the time they took –not having to wait for the correct lunar fasces of the potions– but that, unlike potions, they didn't force the change from inside, but rather worked only on the magic and superficial physical aspects of a person, in effect acting as a complex, permanent, blood-locked glamour that sunk into the skin, changing the bone structure and appearance from outside.

Regulus figured that after everything had been said and done little Leo would still want to be himself on the inside.

It was on one of these daily talks also, that Regulus landed upon the topic of their new relationship.

Leo had been sitting once again snug in Regulus' lap. Cuddling was quickly becoming one of the favorite activities of both previously love-starved boys, having been devoid of family affection for most of their lives, they each appreciated having someone that could classify as such to love unconditionally. Even though it had started as a mad cover up from Regulus' part, it didn't make the connection any less real to both boys.

"Kid" Regulus cleared his voice "I know that at the moment I did that blood ritual neither one of us was thinking straight" He paused, searching for words.

"What I mean to say is that, even though it was hasty and sloppy, you still saved my life down in that cave, and I still performed that ritual that made you my son. Those weren't empty words for me.

"I know you jumped in here without thought so that you could continue with your, as your friend put it 'saving people thing', but I still think that you should get to enjoy your life. Think about it for a second" Regulus paused in order to squish the baby a little closer to his chest "Not everyone gets to be a kid again, Leo. You never had much of a childhood in your previous - or is it future? - Life.

"You shouldn't let what may happen torture you. I figure your situation is pretty similar to a Seer's, you have memories of a future that might yet be."

Harry gurgled, liking the comparison, even if he couldn't help but feel insulted at having his position equaled to Trelawney's.

Seeing his situation as simply knowing more than he should about a possible future made it easier to deal with instead of going in circles inside his head thinking about past and present lives.

"The whole point is that I know about your circumstances, and I know you are a pretty unique kid, but whatever happens from now on we are family, and I would really like to raise you and give you the childhood you couldn't have last time" Regulus' finished, peering into his new son's contemplative face.

When Harry, now officially Leo, finally digested what was being said and broke into a smile, Regulus couldn't stop the relieved laugh from bubbling up from inside him.

So the days passed, with both males getting to know each other a bit better every day, and both getting to treasure above everything the few bonding minutes they had each night under the security of Regulus' privacy wards.

* * *

 _ **An especially big thanks to those few brave should who reviewed! I love hearing reader's feedback. I like knowing which parts of the story you anticipate and which ones you found boring, so that I can adapt and improve my writing style. Also, if you've got any ideas or suggestions tell me, if they don't clash with anything I've already got planned I'll include them!**_

 _ **About 'The Importance of being Earnest': A short play. It's incredibly funny, and it's**_ ** _choke full of those little social observations that Wilde is known for. I actually laughed reading it, and I mean laughed, not that weird little half-snort most of us do. Totally recommend it for a short read during your daily commute. It's a classic, so you'll probably find it on the internet and it can't be more than 60 pages long._**


	3. Brave New World

_**"If one's different, one's bound to be lonely" -From 'Brave new world' by Aldous Huxley**_

* * *

The next time Leo remembered that a war was being fought outside was on July 1980, it was surprisingly easy to lose himself to his new routine, so the wake up call came as a not-quite-welcome surprise. It had been roughly a year since he and Regulus - _his Dad!_ \- had met, and Leo would be hard pressed to deny that he had learnt a lot while living with the Blacks. For one, he'd found that both his grandparents were not as stern as he'd first expected. He supposed that it could be attributed to him being a somewhat of a soft spot for the older couple, but he'd still had expected them to be much more ruthless with his many mistakes. Nevertheless, the newly dubbed Leo was relieved to be proven wrong about his assumptions.

He had been stumbling though Grimmauld Place as he had taken to doing recently, trying to build up his leg and back muscles into allowing him to stand up for more than a couple of steps, when he crashed into a locked door he could have sworn he'd never seen before in the house.

Now, say what you will about Cor Leonis Black, but the fact remained that he had once been named Harry James Potter, and as much as that life seemed to be left further behind each day he spent with his new family, some of Harry's instincts and personality traits still carried over to him. Harry Potter had been, if nothing else, an unerringly inquisitive kid.

Stopping his undignified attempts at transportation –as Grandmother Walburga had taken to calling his crawling around– Leo contemplated his next course of action.

He guessed calling Kreacher and asking him to open the door to be his best shot at success, since the elf adored the baby of his favorite master. Still, that tactic wouldn't work if either his Dad or Grandfather Orion -and it still thrilled him, almost a year later, the fact that he actually had a _real life Dad_ and a whole extended family this time around- had ordered Kreacher to keep him out, or tampered with the wards in order to keep the strange new door shut. The traitors had taken to doing that since Leo had mastered the art of walking and taken to exploring Grimmauld Place looking for the secret passages that he swore he'd seen the elder Blacks using some time or another.

Having decided upon his next step, the Black heir drew air into his lungs before giving a screech worthy of Walburga Black when confronted with muggle paraphernalia.

"Kweechel!" The scream resonated though the corridor, even as Leo cursed his infant tongue and apparent inability to get rid of his childish lisp.

"Yes Little Master sir, what can I helps you with?" The elf popped eagerly besides him.

"Keechi, can you open?" Leo pointed at the door, all the time employing the subtle manipulation that seemed to be the order of the day at House of Black; namely, calling the elf by the pet name he'd designated for the poor creature, and widening his eyes, trying to look as cute and unassuming as possible. Seeing that the elf needed a little push in order to cave –the orders to keep the door closed must have been given by Walburga, whose indications Kreacher would circumvent for him if given enough incentive- he pushed his lower lip outwards, making a puppy dog face that would have made the Sirius of his past-life proud.

He was sure that his friend was about to break when he heard the door open on its own volition behind him. Turning around, he was barely given the time to process the woman in front of him and drop the pout before the person whom he guessed to be Narcissa Malfoy nee Black was cooing and gathering him up into her arms.

"Oh how lovely!" She exclaimed while fussing with his mop of dark waves "I'd heard rumors that cousin Regulus had sired an heir, but I'd never guessed you to be such a handsome little man" Narcissa continued petting and cooing at him as she turned to Kreacher to request a snack for her "and the boys".

Thus Leo was carried into what appeared to be Narcissa's personal quarters in Grimmauld Place, only to be further shocked by what seemed to be a bleached white mound of sleeping flesh. Putting him down into the same cot, his newly discovered aunt proceeded to crush Leo's heart by introducing him to his "cousin Draco, who will be living with you until both your Daddies make us safe from the war."

In retrospect, Leo guessed it shouldn't have come as such a shock. He knew beforehand that as Sirius' brother, his new Dad would have the same familial connections. He also knew, from whenever he was left under the watchful eye of Grandfather Orion, that Narcissa Malfoy was the youngest of Cygnus' three daughters, given that the man took to rambling about the family tree when he ran out of things to say. Nevertheless, it still came as a shock to the system that this time around he would be unable to hate and curse the baby Death-Eater-to-be to his heart's content.

He hoped that his influence would make his newly born cousin easier to tolerate. He vaguely remembered Hermione saying something back then about how children who grew up isolated from others their own age tended to be more pampered, despite Harry's claim that Dudley was proof of the fault in that particular claim -he _had_ grown up near the guy after all. Nevertheless, anyone who grew up knowing Sirius as an uncle couldn't possibly have as big a stick shoved up their asses as he remembered Draco Malfoy to have at eleven, and the boy would grow up knowing 'Uncle Sirius' even if it killed Leo. It had been one of his first resolutions –along with saving the Potters– to reunite the Black brothers, though it might take the full power of his combined adult genius and baby cuteness to do so.

Narcissa's words also acted as an unhappy reminder that it was July 1980, and that while his month-old cousin lay sleeping in Grimmauld Place protected, one Lily Potter was expecting her firstborn son to come any moment now, at the same time as a damning prophecy was being heard by Chess-master Dumbledore.

They also brought home the fact that there was nothing that could be done about it at the moment, not when all the Blacks were sequestered in their ancestral home.

When Orion and Walburga had heard about the true state of affairs on Voldemort's front, they sprang into action, looking in the Black library for a way to counteract the protean charm waved into the Dark Mark. Meanwhile, as a preventive measure to keep their deserting son safe, they had retreated into the safety of Grimmauld Place, cranking the protective and offensive wards as high as they would go, making the place as close to impenetrable as centuries of careful layering could achieve.

Leo knew -from his memories as Harry- that what were now his grandparents had died in the course of the first wizarding war, so he hoped that this tactic would enable them to survive. The side effect of Malfoy sending his wife and newborn son for protection from both the ministry and the Death Eaters invading their home was of little consequence to him as long as they all pulled through the next year.

His Dad had also told him about the warning that they'd delivered to the rest of the family - _only_ family, since apparently, the Blacks would deal with their allies once the war was over. At first, none of the other members had reacted well, like Walburga, many felt that opposing the Dark Lord was equal to treason, and this was one of those lines that they had been brought up believing uncrossable. However, the existence of a horocrux went a long way into convincing them, that, and the thought that their new heir's mother had been killed by friendly fire under his command.

In the end, the Blacks had decided on a meeting that for now it would be best to turn a bind eye to the Dark Lord's methods and heritage and keep their heads low, that is, until he achieved their common goal. After that, they would reconvene again and discuss a proper course of action, given that all of them refused to be under the control of a mad mudblood.

It had hurt Regulus, Leo could tell, when sanctuary had been offered to every member of house of Black and Sirius –along with Andromeda– had refused, on the basis of them no longer being part of the family after being disinherited. Regulus had tried to contact his estranged brother, only to be rebuffed by the older male, who'd stated that he'd rather be in the frontlines and die for a better world, than hiding like a coward in his parent's house.

What was worse, Leo had no way of protecting them from Wormtail's treason, as the eternally loyal Sirius would refuse to believe one of his friends had betrayed them.

His train of thought was interrupted when Kreacher popped back again into the room seconds later with a tray filled with cookies and tea along with a milk bottle for Draco.

"Thank you Kreacher, you may now retire"

"Yes Mistress" the elf bowed low before disappearing.

With the appearance of the food Narcissa lifted him once again and deposited him in a sofa near the little table prior to sitting down and serving some tea. Leo was quick to snatch a cookie of the chocolate variety and stuff it in his face in as dignified a way as he could before anyone could object to the action. Surprisingly, the one thing that his Dad and Grandmother Walburga agreed on was that growing boys shouldn't have chocolate, while Grandfather Orion, who shared on his sweet tooth –bless his heart – would often turn a blind eye when Kreacher sneaked him some, one time even going as far as sharing with Leo what he himself had been eating.

"Now dear, there's no need to gorge ourselves" Narcissa chided "I'm sure there's enough to go around, so do not rush with your food. It's undignified."

"Daddy does not like chocholate" Leo explained while reaching for another cookie. Really, there was no need to let them go to waste, and if there was one thing to be learnt from his 'Harry experiences' was that food was to be consumed with promptness, less it stopped being available a moment later. He could probably blame his current fascination with anything sweet on the fact that he had not been allowed within ten feet of the stuff in his previous childhood, not that the Blacks were proving to be more lenient in that respect than Aunt Petunia.

Narcissa's eyes softened at hearing Leo refer to Regulus as 'Daddy' instead of the traditional 'Father' that he should be calling him, probably envisioning her own son doing the same actions one day. It figured that a baby could soften even the toughest of the Blacks; Leo could already see the mitigating effect his childish antics had on his grandparents, so the new mother should be easier to draw into his sphere of influence. Devoted family often made for the best allies, besides, it wasn't as if _he_ wasn't completely devoted to him newfound family already, newborn, blond prats included.

The tenderness in her face lasted for all of a second before she laughed "Well then, it will have to be our own little secret won't it?" She leaned closer, before whispering "Don't tell anyone, but I also like to have chocolate sometimes, even when I'm not allowed."

Leo nodded solemnly, playing the part of the exited toddler being entrusted with a secret before allowing the conversation to continue.

He was in the middle of describing what had been an epic –in his mind at least– broom chase around Grimmauld Place the day his Dad had caved and bought him his first toy broomstick, making Narcissa laugh wildly while using his hands and jumping around the furniture as well as he could with his underdeveloped legs, when he heard a groan come from behind him.

"You just had to give him chocolate" His father complained as he walked into the room and dropped into a chair, making the action seem more graceful than it had any right to be. "He will be beyond all bearing until he burns the excess energy, I hope you realize, cousin, the position you've now put me in."

Turning around and not giving her a chance to answer Regulus pinned his own son with his gaze "How many cookies have you had already?"

Narcissa muffled her laughter behind a dainty hand as Leo stopped jumping up and down and looked contrite, trying to decide if it was best to lie to his father and deny having had any chocolate, or coming and outright saying that he'd stuffed himself so full that he wouldn't be hungry for the next two days.

"Really cousin, don't be hard on him; I insisted, and he has been nothing but a dear. A couple of cookies are always necessary when having aunt-nephew bonding time. Besides, I couldn't possibly have introduced him to Draco on an empty stomach now, could I?"

"Narcissa, don't cover for him" Regulus interrupted her before the discussion could turn into a speech on the merits of chocolate for the developing mind; his kid was already devious enough without having Narcissa to call upon for support. He dreaded the day Sirius would meet him. "I know Cor Leonis well enough to understand that he is the biggest glutton that House of Black has ever seen, and that was even before Kreacher started encouraging him."

The former Black then watched transfixed as her nephew stumbled closer to his father, holing his arms forward in a silent plea to be picked up. She was amazed at noticing the sternness in Regulus' face melt away into adoration, before picking his son up and holding him close, tucking the little head into the crook of his neck. Parenthood had considerably changed the youngest Black, seeing him now; cradling a miniature version of himself covered in cookie crumbles, even the staunchest supporter of the light would be hard pressed to believe that a year ago this man had been the youngest member of Voldemort's inner circle.

Regulus, for his part, waited until the toddler in his arms had settled down into a comfortable position that would allow him to at least fake being asleep, before initiating a conversation that he knew Leo would find interesting.

"How's Lucius holding up?" He asked, feigning nonchalance.

Narcissa sent him a sharp glance. "You know my husband is still loyal to the Dark Lord and his cause" at his nod, she continued "Nevertheless, your disappearance –and death, as believe a few– has been cause for speculation, given that some consider you to be not only a deserter but a traitor as well. The Dark Lord, however, is certain in the fact that you did not flee to Dumbledore's protection." She paused for a sip of tea.

"Lucius is almost certain that there is a Death Eater plant on the order of the phoenix, says that the information is too accurate for there not to be one. All the same, the Dark Lord is looking for a member amongst his supporters to send directly to Dumbledore in a pretend fit of remorse, I would guess that this is in order to have a backup should his spy turn out to be … _uncertain_ " She pronounced carefully, looking for an appropriate word, before continuing "in his alliances. It was never part of my plan to do more than sit on this information, but maybe, considering the circumstances; you might want to reflect on the likelihood of warning your brother about the possibility."

"You underestimate how much I care about my brother" Regulus snorted. "By now I have tried warning him on three separate occasions. He was already considering the idea of a traitor on their ranks by the time I made my first warning. The fool refuses to acknowledge the hint that it might be one of his friends, though. That is, he refused as soon as I made it clear that that werewolf that he likes hanging around has turned down about as many invitations into the Death Eaters as he himself has."

Narcissa hummed.

"Has there been any progress regarding the removal of your Dark Mark?"

"No" A frustrated hand made its way through Regulus' hair "We're still looking, but I think that for now the only way for it to disappear is for the Dark Lord to die. There was a hint, in one of the more obscure books –you know the collection that I'm talking about, the restricted one on the darker undertones of Necromancy that Bella got swallowed by when we were kids– that stipulated on a way to sever the connection the Dark Mark has to its creator, making it in effect no more than a tacky magical tattoo. I want to research a bit more into dissolving this connection before trying though. It wouldn't do to accidentally cut my own connection to it and leave my empty carcass to the unlimited control of the Dark Lord, but for it I need to find a more in depth volume on the subject, a search that I'm having no real luck in."

Regulus let the conversation trail of from the topic of the war after that, choosing instead to commiserate with Narcissa on the joys of parenthood, and relieve some of the more frustrating examples on why his parents were not made to take care of small children. It was a miracle that both Sirius and he had turned out as well as they did, considering how his parents behaved around their grandchild. He had, after all, arrived just the other day from dropping his brother a note to find that in his absence both his parents and Kreacher had let Leo run wild. Meaning that the whole place was flooded, every tap in the house open and overflowing, and his kid had been standing in a bucket, ready to fling himself down the stairs in his 'boat'. Meanwhile, his mother had been firing spells left right and center, at first to try and punish the toddler for the mess, later, when she realized that Leo actually was going to 'jump into the waterfall', the spells had changed to stunning and/or summoning, trying to stop the disaster from happening. With the little control they had over one single kid, Regulus shuddered to think what their house had been like back when there were two of them, and both his parents had no previous experience.

Narcissa in turn, shared her experiences with pregnancy, telling him about being pampered by her husband throughout it all, and Regulus was relieved to hear that behind closed doors his cousin's promised was a much softer man that truly cared about his family. He'd had his concerns ever since he head of the engagement, and to have them assuaged by a glowing Narcissa lifted a burden he hadn't even noticed he'd carried around.

Thus they spent the rest of the afternoon, until Regulus noticed that Leo had truly fallen asleep once more and left to put him in his cot.

.

After Narcissa's surprise settlement into Grimmauld Place, life continued with business as usual for the rest of the year. Regulus still left the secure wards from time to time in order to tip off his still estranged brother about the war, often anonymously, and he still made the time every afternoon in order to play with his son, an activity to which Narcissa had taken to participating in, sometimes even bringing along Draco when it was time for him to be fed.

Leo's relationship with the rest of his family improved in leaps and bounds, once he was able to perfect his innocent puppy face and figure which undignified activities he could get away with and which would make the rest of the Blacks blow a gasket.

It was during his second Christmas in Grimmauld Place –and Draco's first– that Orion Black decided that it was time to let the newest member of the house meet with the rest of his extended family, namely the older Black generation, since the rest were disowned. There was no way that Walburga would allow her half blood grand-niece to tarnish their noble house with her presence and that of her mudblood father.

It was on the big day of introductions that Leo had to be pulled aside by Narcissa in order to be given a crash course into hosting protocol and the manners expected from the scion of such a prestigious house, that his own father had "so grievously neglected to educate him in", all while said neglecting father laughed at his older-than-appeared son's misfortune.

"And remember, Leo dear, you can't go around refusing to eat what you don't like, or referring to us with shortened nicknames. You must address everyone by either their title or full connection, so you must drop the 'Daddy' for the holidays, at least" She continued to fuss over him and his manners while two-year-old Leo shared a commiserating look with his Dad, scarcely believing that these people could have so many expectations for a kid that could barely walk and couldn't even get through a sentence without lisping. Goblin's Gold, he was two years old, and if he wanted to act like a kid then there was squat that the Blacks could do about it!

"That is enough cousin" Regulus straightened from where he'd been languishing against the door. "I believe that both you and Mother have tortured my kid enough. Furthermore, Cor Leonis is welcome to address me by whatever name he sees fit, if he likes 'Daddy' then I'll go by 'Daddy', this matter is not up for discussion."

"Spoken like a truly dedicated father" Their argument was interrupted by the arrival of the Blacks, whose first impression of their new member –seeing as Draco was not old enough to be introduced to the family yet– was that of big eyes looking up with wonder towards Regulus. "See Ignatius, I told you that the kid would be alright. The fact that the last generation of the Blacks got caught up in the war does not mean that the new batch won't be of a decent sort."

The last proclamation made the already blushing Regulus and Narcissa wince along with the man who Leo had now identified as Ignatius Prewitt. Seeing everyone's horrified faces, Leo decided then and there that he'd forever be as blunt as the woman whom he guessed to be Lucretia Black –as soon as he was reasonably sure he'd get away with it, that is. He could see how Sirius would enjoy shocking these people.

"Aunt Lucretia, Uncle Ignatius, let me introduce you to my son Cor Leonis Black" Regulus stated with aplomb, subtly pushing Leo to the front in order to distract the family.

The declaration was followed by a flourish of introductions, during which Leo struggled to not only keep all the names and connections straight in his head, but also to say his required introductory speech without lisping. The overall effect of this was a handsome two year old with a serious, concentrated face that spoke with deliberation and without the babbling and stuttering common to toddlers. Leaving the Blacks satisfied that he could carry on their noble name without embarrassments before being finally allowed to go and entertain him-self while the adults plotted.

Perhaps his most nerve-wracking introduction had been the one to Druella Rosier.

He had been relieved when his family had decided to wait on introducing him to the remaining Rosiers -meaning his 'Uncle Evan', 'Aunt Patricia' and grandparents- since the Black wards wouldn't allow them access until the war was over. However, he had completely forgotten about Druella Black nee Rosier, his new Great Aunt on both sides of his family, who had come expressly to report back to the rest of her family about the new member.

He had been listening to the newly dubbed 'Grandma Mel' prattle on about how he was much too small and needed fattening up when the low tenor of his Father called his name. The woman had taken one look at his little pouting lips and big round eyes and automatically decided that he was the best thing that could have happened, no work needed on his part whatsoever. He had wished that every family member were like this for about five seconds before his new Grandmother had started ranting about how small he was, and even though she was a potential ally on his constant struggle for chocolate, he took automatic offense at being told he wouldn't 'reach knee-high to a grasshopper'. It was therefore, with little reluctance that he left her side when his Dad called him, he would have been grateful for the interruption if it were not for the company he was going to meet.

"Leo, come here meet your Uncle Cygnus and Aunt Druella"

He shyly walked up to them, hoping against hope that Druella's expression of distaste was not in anyway related to himself. It became evident quickly how misguided his expectations had been when the first words out of her mind were "So this is the reason why you failed in your duty to your country?"

Regulus gritted his teeth "You well know that I couldn't have continued calling the man who killed my wife - _your niece-_ 'Master'."

Druella Black's only response was to sniff in disdain, her husband Cygnus, however, rolled his eyes and kneeled to Leo's height. "Hey there little man, don't listen to my lovely wife, she's just upset that your Mommy died."

Leo would have raised an eyebrow at that, they only hoped he was that gullible. Sadly, his facial muscles lacked the development necessary to do more than smile and pout, maybe pull an angry scowl if he tried hard enough, though he suspected those weren't as effective as he'd want them to be, judging by past reactions. Instead of answering, he decided to play the part of the young toddler and grabbed a handful of his Dad's pant leg, nodding in Cygnus direction.

It seemed that his non-reaction bothered his Great Aunt, since she once again commented on how unfit he was, and how little he actually resembled his late mother. Leo supposed that the Rosiers had every right to be upset over suddenly finding that one of them had been living a whole separate life without telling anyone, but the Blacks had been in exactly the same position and they hadn't taken it out on him. Though he guessed a significant part of it could be attributed to Regulus surviving to tell his family himself, whereas the Rosier clan had found via the Blacks.

Still, the way that Druella was dissing both himself and his Dad made him pissed, his robe was itchy, he had been paraded around all night and now this lady was antagonizing him for no discernible reason. Cygnus and Regulus seemed to be thinking along the same lines, since the both frowned at her until she flushed.

"Well" Druella Black said, trying to recover herself "It was a pleasure meeting you young man, but I fear I simply must go and ask Cassiopeia about her latest work" and with that she turned around and headed to the opposite end of the room.

Besides them Cygnus sighed "She's been difficult ever since she found out that Evangeline had a son without telling her, you know how she likes to feel involved. I'm sure that it won't last much longer though, not now that she's finally met you. You'll see, she'll be smothering you both in no time"

It would be just a few months before they would get to know just how true those words rang.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I'll just go make sure she doesn't step on any more toes." Cygnus smiled before going after his wife.

With that Leo and Regulus were alone again, though the mood for Leo was ruined beyond salvaging. He was mad that people would talk down to his Dad, who was possibly the best man in wizarding Britain and had given him a home and a loving family. On top of it all, his robes were getting itchier by the second. Perhaps his Dad sensed the approaching temper tantrum because he'd immediately sent him to calm down and look at the fairy lights, smiling softly down at him in commiseration. After all, Regulus Black had had to endure endless meet and greets like this in his own childhood, and his even had the addition of a fretting Walburga and Sirius acting out.

Obediently, Leo walked up to the decorations and tried to ignore the adults gossiping around him.

.

Leo had been enraptured watching the Yule fairy decorations, when it appeared that life had decided it that was once again time for the yearly fuckup he'd encountered ever since his re-introduction into the wizarding world. Needless to say, that was one tradition he had not been looking forward into re-instating.

It had struck him, last year, how different traditional pureblood celebrations were from whatever he'd experienced before. It was true that his Holidays at Hogwarts or at Ron's had been different from staying in number 4 Privet Drive –and not just because his 'family' had hated him– but because he had been surprised by experiencing the same feasts so differently. Spending Christmas and Halloween with the Blacks however, made him realize exactly why families like the Weasleys –who, to the muggle raised Harry, had seemed like the epitome of all things wizard– had been labeled as blood traitors. It was because, in reality, the feasts and dates that wizards celebrated were as separated from conventional Christmas and Halloween as any other two things between the wizarding and muggle world, going as far as calling them by different names and adding their own significant dates to the calendar. Really, Leo didn't know why he'd ever expected the holidays to be a common point between them; maybe it was because the Weasleys celebrated the muggle traditions with the addition of magic that he'd been presuming that everyone else did it the same way.

This year, watching the fairy Yule decorations, along with the time-honored dances, presents and cursing –apparently, it was preferable to curse objects on Samhain, and break said curses on Beltane, something about ambient magic – that came with the package of a Dark traditionalist family, Leo got that same heady feeling he'd started to associate in his first life with a heavy influx of magic. The only difference was that this time there was no duel between Voldemort and Dumbledore to take the blame, and prodding with his magic the Black wards, he confirmed that they were not crashing down, so they were out of the list as possible sources.

He was contemplating on the merits of asking his father about it –his own curiosity wouldn't let him forget about the mystery magic, but, for all he knew, it was supposed to act this way during celebrations– when the woman who he had previously identified as Irma Black nee Crabbe – _another_ unwanted relation– gave a shrill yelp that disturbed his contemplation of the excess magic. Turning to see what had been the source of the disruption, and maybe if it had something to do with his current puzzle, Leo realized that, yes, Irma Black's shriek was related to the wonky magic permeating the air, and no, if his relatives' expressions were anything to go by magic was not supposed to act this way.

The bigger shock came, however, when he realized that it was his very own magic the one that had caused the disruption. A disruption that came in the form of a micro natural disaster –complete with fire tornado, lighting strikes and a very light drizzle– that appeared to be contained around the area directly surrounding him, but nevertheless never got close to touching Leo. He guessed that if he ever needed close protection from a threat of the physical variety, then this was the way to go about it, but he had no idea how his magic had conjured the carefully enclosed, tiny apocalypse surrounding him, much less why it had suddenly decided to manifest itself in that form.

It was his Dad's horrified expression that thankfully brought him back to reality from his disconnected state. On the other hand, it was his disassociation from his emotions what allowed him to calmly look at his accidentally conjured tempest and not panic. Slamming back into reality Leo realized that – _Oh god this is happening and I've got no idea of what is going on and I might die_!

No.

Now was not the appropriate time to break down, he was a Black now, and Blacks are always on top of the situation. More importantly, he had been the vanquisher of the Darkest Lord of British history, he had defeated a Basilisk at age twelve, there was no way that he would let himself be scared into submission by his own magic, out of control or not. Squaring his shoulders, Leo took a deep breath and focused inwards on his core.

Making use of all the tenacity and stubbornness that years at the Dursley's had allowed him to cultivate, he willed his magic to stand down and come back to him. He was surprised when he could feel the pull of magic wanting to be free and run wild with the elements, asking him to release it again, but Leo stood steadfast in his resolution, eventually managing to will the gale back into his core, with a promise to let it run wild someday in the close future.

Crisis averted, he barely had time to wonder at the pseudo-conversation he'd had with his magic –something he had never been able to do in his previous life, as in touch with magic as he had been– before he found himself wrapped into his father's arms, being gently rocked back and forth while a hand made its way through his hair. Leo took a minute to return the hug before he started squirming away, wanting to see if there had been any damage done by the atypical accidental magic and wanting to see if any adult would offer some kind of explanation as to what had just happened.

The adults, having been reassured and not seeing any kind of damage immediately exploded into a cacophony of sound, wanting to discuss the meaning that this outburst would have for the house of Black. Leo could see that Grandfather Orion would not stand for it though, and judging by his Dad's dark countenance, then neither would he.

"Enough" Orion exploded "I will require a Vow of secrecy from all of you before you are allowed to leave our ancestral home. This is a time of war, and any possible development inside the House of Black should stay that way."

Having said his part, Orion stood back, indicating with a tilt of his eyebrows that Walburga was expected to start making rounds for the Vow while Regulus tried to usher his son out of the explosive atmosphere in the room.

"Come on" He picked his son into his arms "We'll ward the Black library against intruders and then you and I are going to have a long conversation."

Regulus walked him into the library, never letting go of his infant body, before calling for Kreacher and requesting snacks for the both of them. Sitting on the sofa cuddled together, Leo started to relax, secure in the knowledge that his family would do whatever damage control was necessary to make sure this incident wouldn't come back to bite him in the ass in the future.

Once they'd both settled down and the wards were altered so that they couldn't be disturbed, Regulus turned to look him in the eye and asked him to explain from his own perspective what had happened. Leo simply sent a tiny push of legillimency to his father, figuring that allowing him to view the memory would be easier than trying to explain that no, he was not crazy, but he had actually sensed some kind of emotion from his magic.

After reviewing and reviewing the memory, his father let out a resigned sigh, as if he had been expecting the incident to go that way but had been really hoping he had just misread the situation. Leo's concerned tug of his sleeve only seemed to make him go from resignation to strong resolve, something that was not particularly encouraging to the currently two year old kid on his lap.

"Leo, do you have any kind of idea of what a mage is?" He asked, waiting for his son to shake his head negative before continuing. "Mages are considered to be wizards that have a stronger than usual connection to their magic, something that often results in the magic being impregnated with some of the caster's feelings and personality. Usually, magic tends to gravitate towards one area or another, which is why we purebloods tend to guard our bloodlines –and therefore our magic– like a bunch of Cerberuses. It is because with time, magic evolves, resulting in certain affinities that give way to magical gifts, like metamorphmagy, parseltounge, a seer ability or countless other gifts associated with different areas of natural magic. I am not going to go into the scientific details of the beliefs that gave way to this war because those are irrelevant to the current discussion. What you need to know is that there are different kinds of magic –not better or worse, mind you, just different– and that how magic represents itself has a lot to do with the wielder's affinity –and everyone, even muggles, have an affinity– beliefs, personality and past experiences.

"So, if you had an affinity for Defense in your past life, which sprouted from the fact that you had to learn to defend yourself from a very young age from that muggle family, and was later reinforced by your hero-type personality and role in the war, then this affinity would have simply manifested itself on your being an above average duelist, or defense related spells –such as the _Patronus Charm_ – coming easier to you than to other people. Purebloods used to like marrying other purebloods simply because being raised a certain way and being in contact with family magic usually results in a predilection for certain affinities, even though that isn't always the case, as you can see with Sirius' becoming enamored with light magic despite our family being dark oriented. This debate is often reduced to the age old case of nature versus nurture.

"Conversely, for Mages this affinity has a much bigger impact on their use of magic. Remember, a mage's magic imprints itself with the wielder's personality, which results in a nearly sentient magic, one that seems to argue and play with its caster, and that requires much more careful handling and consideration than an average wizard's. Now, this is all speculation from my part, but from what I can tell, when you appeared back in that cave in the body of a baby, your previous adult magic followed you over here. As a result of your body having to contain more magic than it was designed to, your body was forced to either thicken the already existing connections or create new ones –I'm not yet sure of what happened– which made you become more in touch with your magic than the average wizard, and similarly making your magic be more in touch with yourself, opening the path for it to start embedding your personality onto itself. Are you with me this far?" Regulus looked down after the lengthy explanation to make sure that he wasn't overwhelming his son. The last thing they needed right now was for strong emotion to make him lose control of his magic again.

Giving Leo a moment to make sure he understood everything Regulus continued theorizing about the possible reasons that his son's magic had for reacting in such a way.

"So, the fact that you travelled back in time and were able to bring your magic with you gave you a strong connection to it, it is my guess that this is what turned you into a Mage. Now, the problem is centered on your magic's affinity. You saw the way in which it manifested it's paroxysm, it was not defensive as I had expected based on your past life, nor by self transfiguration as a metamorphmagus' magic would –the main Black affinity after Dark magic–, nor it resulted in any divination oriented outburst –which could have happened since your past life was guided by prophesy–or any other known field of natural magic. Instead, your magic chose to use nature directly to manifest itself, which is why you had the natural elements represented in that conjuration of yours. From here on it is guesswork again as to how you came about that particular affinity, but I speculate that it was something regarding the fact that as a substitute for dying your soul and magic came back here, which fortified your connection to both life and death –maybe even to those hallows you collected in your past life– and that your close affiliation with both earthly existence and non-existence manifested itself through the elements of which earthly existence is comprised.

"Now, listen closely to what I am about to say because I do not believe in repeating myself. This gift of being so closely related to your magic is not something that everyone is graced with and as such, it is something to be treasured and not taken lightly. Furthermore, I am positive that you noticed your grandparents demanding secrecy vows from everyone in attendance, even if they are family. This is because, as a much as it is a valued gift, in times of war we do not want this tidbit about the next heir Black to be revealed. It would not be advantageous for you to show your hand this early, much less when you are still unable to personally defend yourself from an attack, is that understood?

"Nevertheless, this does not mean that you have to be set apart from your peers any more than you already are. As far as I am aware –and rest assured, we will be scouring the Black library and archives for more information– the only difference between a Mage and a regular wizard is related to the sentience of the magic. On the upside, this will give you more power and control, being able to communicate with your magic will also help you understand how it works. On the downside, you _will_ have to spend more time practicing with your magic than your peers, or it will start to feel neglected and lash out like it did today, probably not as violent though, since it tends to mirror your moods and personality.

"Cor" Regulus paused, using the pet name that he habitually employed when they were alone and he wanted to say something important. "This does not have to set you apart from your friends, we already knew that you were going to be considered a gifted child, what with your memories and experience, the fact that from now on you will have to spend some time every few days exercising your magic will only reinforce this belief and give you an alibi regarding your superior handling. Nothing has to change if you don't want it to." He finished, cuddling the little boy in his lap closer, and praying that for once things would end up on their favor.

.

The days following the revelation about his magic and his subsequent lengthy talk with his father were spent testing the waters in House of Black all over again. Getting his grandparents used to having a baby crawling around hadn't taken much work on Cor Leonis' part; it had been two months in his new home before Kreacher was asked to baby-proof the ancestral mansion. Getting his grandparents used to having a mage grandson, and all that it entailed, proved to be slightly harder. It wasn't because his grandparents were not proud –because God knew they couldn't stop bragging about the magic of their noble line– and neither was it because they did not know how to deal with his special needs –if being referred to as a 'special needs child' wasn't a blow to the twenty-year-old's ego then nothing was– rather, the problem lay in the fact that they were constantly aware of him.

Throughout his year of living in Grimmauld Place, Leo had gotten used to the hands off approach that Orion and Walburga took in regards to children, preferring to delegate the responsibility to Kreacher until they were old enough to start being molded into heirs. Yet, Leo's circumstances seemed to light a spark of interest in his usually stoic grandparents, and with their constant shadowing he was forced to further relinquish his much valued independence. Albeit there were more annoying things than being praised for performing even the most menial of magical tasks, Leo though that his grandparent's pompous attitude was quickly getting old.

Not everything was as bothersome as his grandparent's reactions though. The day after his talk with his father Leo had been taken to the backyard in Grimmauld Place and given free rein to level the whole place to the ground if he so wished; all in the name of exercising his temperamental magic, of course. He took the opportunity to do exactly that, and had been thankful to be given the time not to only get to know his changed magic, but also a few minutes of introspection to process everything that had happened the previous day.

For what he was the most thankful though, was the patient support Regulus had given him once he'd come to grips with the situation. He knew his endless list of question upon question, each more unanswerable than the last had to be tiring, but to his credit, his father never gave even the most minimum indication that he wanted anything else but to be there with his kid.

After some heavy thinking on his part, Cor Leonis concluded that the fact that his magic had decided to emulate his more distinctive traits was no more surprising than what had happened to him back on that train station. This decision and outlook on the subject allowed him to appreciate the finer points of his new situation and all the benefits that he could start reaping even as a kid, as for example, the fact that he could get away with almost anything if he framed it as if it had been a caprice of his magic, or how, after becoming more in touch with it, he could feel the magic thrumming from beneath his skin, watching protectively over him and waiting to be called upon, and that whenever he used it he was left with the aftereffects of a rush of euphoria.

It was on this note that the Black family welcomed the year 1981.

* * *

 ** _There you go. I'm hoping to make all chapters somewhere around this_** ** _length, though you shouldn't get your hopes up about all updates being this frequent. You are just getting quick chapters because I had all the introductory part up until Halloween 1981 already written and I just had to revise stuff. I'll continue it though, just not updating every two days or so._**

 ** _Once again, a BIG THANK YOU to everyone who reviewed. I love hearing what you think, and if you have any comments or suggestions drop me a line :)_**

 ** _About 'A Brave New World': I remember loving it when I read it a few years back, though I wouldn't recommend it today, guess my tastes changed. Still, it's a pretty good book, and I love this one waaay more than either Fahrenheit or 1984. They are all basically founded on the same premises, but I still find Huxley's to be more appealing. Good for a read if you are into the post-apocalyptic, awful possible future fro humanity._**


	4. War and Peace

_**All violent reforms deserve censure, because they can never do away with evil as long as men are what they are; and, therefore, it is the part of wisdom not to employ violence. -From "War and Peace" by Leo Tolstoy**_

* * *

1981 brought with it it's own set of problems, and it wasn't only because with it the real Harry's defeat of Voldemort was growing closer.

The horocruxes were not where they were supposed to be.

It was not the first problem that they had to deal with regarding the progress of the war, but, at the moment it appeared to be the most concerning one.

It was not even the first time that Regulus left with Kreacher on a scout mission. The first time they'd gone looking for them and came back empty handed, Leo and Regulus had just assumed that Voldemort hadn't gotten around to hiding them yet. Of course, they'd gone for the accessible ones, the diadem at Hogwarts and the cup at Bellatrix's vault would be much easier to reach and dispose of in the chaotic aftermath of the war, when everyone would be too busy reconstructing their lives to notice a missing artifact or two, especially if those missing them were former Death Eaters. So they decided to go for the easiest one; the Gaunt ring.

When happening upon the house lacking all of the remembered wards the first time around, they had simply assumed that Voldemort had hidden that horocrux last; after all, Regulus had already retrieved the one hidden in the cave. Maybe he hadn't gotten around to it yet, so they decided to postpone their search until later in the war. However, the time for Voldemort's first demise was drawing closer every day, and there was still no sign of anyone having even gone near the Gaunt shack.

Worse than the missing horocrux though, was the realization that the others might never be hidden where Leo remembered them to be, the discovery had been made while discussing the horocrux that Voldemort had left in the cave. It was a passing mention of the hidden artifact that made Leo comprehend that it had not been Slytherin's locket what Regulus had retrieved that day, but rather Tom Riddle's diary.

Had Leo coming back altered history so much and so deeply that, even years before he had appeared, Voldemort decided to choose different horocruxes? How was it that the existence of a baby in the house of Black changed a detail so unrelated to it as was the hiding place of a Dark Lord's bid for eternal life?

Leo knew, in a theoretical level, that the fact that someone had chosen something in the past was no guarantee that they would do so again in the future. Nevertheless, he had foolishly believed that his going back would only alter whatever he involved himself directly with, he had never expected to be seeing differences as glaring as these.

He hadn't even gone that far back! As far as he could tell, the only differences between his present and past were a change in surname and being two years older than he was supposed to. Even as he thought this, Leo Black knew that he was lying to himself, because, hadn't his Dad already survived the cave where he was supposed to meet his end? Hadn't the appearance of an heir to their house made the Blacks react with more caution than they had done before in the war? Hadn't the intelligence that Regulus passed on anonymously helped the light side keep the war from being as bloody as his history books had reported?

Luckily, they had Tom Riddle's diary as proof that horocruxes had been made, even if they had to go looking for them from scratch, it was still knowledge their side hadn't had the last time around until it was too late. This however, sparked many questions within Leo's mind, seeing as his fight with the Basilisk would never come to pass now that that particular piece of the Dark Lord's soul had been destroyed.

Was he even a parselmouth anyway? He'd never gotten around to verifying if Dumbledore's claim that it was the horocrux what had given him that specific ability was true. After all, he'd only lived a few short minutes without the thing in his head before coming back again. Even if he couldn't speak parseltounge this time around, it was no guarantee that this Harry Potter wouldn't, as the possibility that it had been an innate ability within him had never been disproved. More frightening though, was the idea of actually being able to speak parseltounge in the body of Cor Leonis Black. The Blacks had never had a parselmouth on their line before, and if his own soul and magic had managed to come back here, it was entirely likely that the parasite that had leeched onto him all those years ago had managed to tag along for the ride.

With this possibility in mind, Leo had demanded that his father sequester them away for a little while to test his parseltounge theory.

Shutting the both of them in an indoor courtyard, Regulus proceeded to conjure a harmless garden snake. He would have liked to deny that the prospect of having a parselmouth son frightened him, he had after all, been brought up hearing his parents extol on the virtues of the gift, hearing wonders of all that could be achieved with the mark of Slytherin. When he got older, seeing the Dark Lord –a parselmouth– climb the social ladder and start a revolution in their stagnant world, had only cemented the truth of his parent's stories in his mind. Now, however, he was ready to pray that his only son was unable to talk in anything but English when faced with the harmless snake, just because the potential source from which he'd gained the ability was something that he refused to even consider. It was because of this that the hissing sound that came from Leonis' mouth chilled him to the very bones.

Leo could hear his heart start beating furiously as soon as he saw the snake. He knew that there was still the possibility of Parseltounge being an actual magical gift that he had, but when he considered the fact that neither of his parents had possessed the ability whereas Voldemort was notorious for chatting up every reptile that crossed his path, well, his chances weren't looking that good.

Feeling his Dad prodding him a bit on the back, leo swallowed heavily and tried to concentrate in getting his heart beat to calm down. Closing his eyes, he focused on the slight hissing, hoping that it wouldn't turn into words.

 _"Where am I? What is this? Don't come any closer!"_

Shit.

Maybe- maybe it was just the fact that he was so used to hearing Parseltounge that he ended up understanding it? Maybe it was just an echo of his former talent. Surely he wasn't still a Parselmouth, right?

Steeling himself, Leo opened his mouth, still thinking platitudes, trying to convince himself that _-this isn't happening, dammit!_

Casting around for something to say, Leo decided to just try and calm the spitting snake down, since the poor thing seemed to be worried out of its mind for it's nest-mates. _"Hey! Stop worrying, we'll get you back home in a second, just wanted to test something"_

 _"Well then, be quick about it"_ The garden snake answered imperiously.

Turning to his Dad and asking him to vanish the snake back, Leo tried to hold back the angry tears that threatened to fall down. Couldn't he just be normal for once?

Seeing his son's desolate face, Regulus decided that maybe it had been an inborn ability. If his magic had been able to follow him back, maybe his magical gifts had too? They would just have to test the horocrux theory, Leo would have to learn advanced occlumency as soon as he was old enough to handle the more complex mind arts and poke around, see if he could find any trace of a foreign presence. There was no need to despair yet, and even if he was a living horocrux, then they would find a way to extract it from him. The Black library had plenty of books on the mind arts and on extracting souls.

All in all, it was a very worried father and son duo that went to sleep that day, wondering if they would be able to stop this war on time without such crucial knowledge as was the location of the horocruxes.

.

The future, however, wasn't looking entirely bleak, despite circumstances.

Leo's third birthday was rapidly approaching, and though with it so was the 31st of October, Leo still felt that his birthday couldn't come fast enough. Now that he was able to run around the house without assistance and talk with a relatively decent pronunciation, life on N°12 Grimmauld Place was becoming more enjoyable by the second.

His cousin Draco –who, now that he didn't spend the whole day sleeping, turned out to be quite interesting– was another source of fascination and entertainment for Leo. Narcissa was delighted to see him take the roll of an older brother with her son, feeling that a close relationship with a bigger boy to whom he could look up to would only benefit Draco in the long run. Leo wasn't entirely sure that the Malfoys would be so eager to foment that particular connection once he was off to Hogwarts –after all, his chances of being sorted into Gryffindor were definitely high– but by the time that his sorting came around Draco would be old enough to remember him, and they could always reconnect at school. Thus it was that the three year old took to spending his days with both Malfoy and Kreacher, entertaining them with stories and playing make-believe with the little boy, one time going as far as to ask Kreacher to hover them both in the air for a few minutes so that they could pretend they were flying. Needless to say, both their parents almost had a coronary when they walked into the nursery. The scolding that came afterwards was totally worth it in Leo's mind, and not severe enough to discourage him from trying that particular game again when they were older if only to hear once again little Draco's delighted laugh at suddenly finding himself floating in the air without discernible aid.

Getting to know Draco through tickle wars was a completely different experience than the one he'd had in his past life, and comparing the sweet little baby that wouldn't go to sleep without being tucked in to the desperate teenager that his past self had found crying in a bathroom, made him even more determined to keep that miserable sequence of events from ever happening to his honorary kid brother.

Waking up the morning after the hovering charm incident, Leo felt all energy and explosive enthusiasm. The first time he had woken up feeling over exuberant without explainable reason, Leo had blown a gasket, pulling a tantrum worthy of the most spoilt and pampered little boy in the world, demanding to talk with his Dad privately. Inwardly, he was panicking about the possibility of having dragged the horocrux back in time with himself; unexplainable foreign emotions were too close to his experiences in fifth year for comfort. So, after frantically babbling to his Dad about having a Dark Lord sequestered away in his head, he was filled with righteous indignation when his father's only reaction was to burst out laughing in his face. It took a lot of coercing and placating of his wounded pride before Regulus could explain to him that there was nothing wrong with him, and that the feelings he was getting had nothing to do with Voldemort, but were rather his magic trying to communicate. Apparently, the responsive magic of a Mage could project strong mirrored feelings towards its caster, in a similar manner to that of a kid who projected strong emotions to his magic in order to have an accidental outburst.

Having been mollified, Leo spent the next couple of days becoming a little bit more self-aware, trying to discern between his own emotions and that of his magic –something which was proving to be surprisingly difficult, seeing as how most of the time they were feeling the same thing– and had become somewhat proficient at understanding what it wanted to say.

So, when he woke up that day to a feeling of absolute exhilaration, Leo gave it no more of a second thought than to remind himself later on to make time for his magic to come out to play. Maybe he could prank his grandparents and blame it on his its mischievousness?

Jumping of the bed with a shouted 'Good Morning' for Kreacher, Leo raced downstairs for some milk before pounding on Narcissa's door, wanting to be let in to play with Draco.

His relationship with Narcissa was also another thing which had befuddled him at the beginning but now had grown accustomed to. In his past life, whenever he had seen the woman, the image which had been brought to the forefront of his mind was that of a cold pureblooded lady with a constant expression of distaste fixed on her face. It seemed that the rumors that she was different with family had some credence to them, because the only time he'd seen her pull as much as a smirk or a sneer had been when she had been bantering with his father -and the lord knew Regulus Black was as acerbic as they came and definitely gave as good as he got.

It was therefore, a very surprised little boy that noticed the tear tracks on his aunt's face as he stood behind the door once she opened.

"Aunty, is Draco okay?" He asked concerned, standing on his tiptoes in an effort to look beyond Narcissa at whatever was going on inside the room.

It seemed that seeing his distress had alerted Narcissa as to the state that she'd opened the door in, because she hastily took out her wand and charmed any lasting evidence of having been crying away from her face.

"Good morning Leo, dear" She kneeled to his level, pulling him into a motherly hug that he had no idea how to respond to. Had something happened last night?

"Aunty, you never answered" He protested from her embrace before the woman had time to resume her crying or simply bat the question away by changing the subject.

"Oh it's nothing of the sort sweetie, I was just crying because I am so happy" Narcissa explained, suppressing a laugh at how adorable the skeptical look was on her nephew's face. "Draco is all right, but you should go talk to your Daddy soon. I bet he is already looking through the house for you, he had something important to tell." And with those words, Leo resumed his running again, not giving Narcissa time to even say goodbye, he tore through the house in search of his father.

He was sitting on the basement, having exhausted the places to look for when he remembered he could just call Kreacher and ask to be taken to his Dad. Smacking his face in a show of frustration, Leo stood to do just that.

"Kreachy!" He employed the pet name he'd saddled the elf with, as he did whenever he wanted to ask for a particularly bothersome favor. At first, it had taken a lot of willpower not to snap at the elf that had –in a future that would never come to pass– gotten his godfather killed, however, as the months passed and the elf treated him with the utmost devotion, Leo started to feel guilty of his treatment of the creature, feeling as if he had to make up to him for condemning him for something he had not yet done and might never do. This, in turn, caused the elf to become even more smitten with the little boy, claiming that he was 'just as kind as his father', all of which resulted in the both of them cultivating a deep relation that had even more significance to the elf than the one which he'd had with Regulus, a thing that, for all intents and purposes had been unthinkable to the elf even two years prior.

"Little master called Kreacher" The elf materialized beside him with a soft ' _pop_ '.

"Kreachy, can you take me to Daddy? I can't find him."

No sooner had Leo finished asking the servant of the noble house of Black had already grabbed a hold of him and apparated them both into Leo's room.

The first time Leo had been apparated in this body and fallen flat on his face, his father had demanded that he take lessons on how to apparate without stumbling about, something that he had been quite eager to achieve until he realized what the classes actually consisted of. The end result of this had been a tiny Leo being popped all around the private living room in Grimmauld Place by Kreacher, all the time while Narcissa gave him useless tips on how to land until his grandmother -who'd come halfway during the practice to monitor his progress- had deemed him graceful enough to not embarrass them in public.

Sadly, this had only opened the floodgates to a thousand other types of training that Grandmother Walburga insisted he must have. On the upside, he now believed himself to be the best spoken, most graceful toddler to have ever been born, something which had his grandparents singing his praises, claiming him to be both a prodigy and a little boy of top caliber. Besides, he had discovered how to apparate directly into his Dad's arms if he was within view, something that was hilarious when there were other people around, since they looked at regulus twice and suddenly he was holding a baby.

"Thanks Kreachy" Leo said before turning towards his Dad, who until that moment had been sitting patiently on the bed, looking for all the world as if he had been languishing on a comfortable beach, instead of being sat on his kid's ridiculously patterned sheets –a moving pattern of a Quidditch game, complete with brooms, quaffles scoring and even a tiny golden snitch that popped in and out of existence in the comforter– which had been a point of contention between the Blacks due to their unsuitableness as bedding for the future scion of their house.

"Leo, I had been looking for you, come here" Regulus opened his arms so that his son could get back in the bed and cuddle against his side.

Once he was positioned comfortably with his Dad's arms wrapped around his tiny form, Leo looked upwards, intent on knowing what news his father had that had managed to make Narcissa Malfoy cry, supposedly form joy.

Seeing his expression, his father sighed deeply before allowing a smile to overtake his face and starting his explanation. "Cor, do you remember when I first defected from the Dark Lord's service? How we had to turn up the wards and couldn't leave the house for anything because the Dark Lord had asked for my head on a spike?"

Nodding, Leo did his best to try and not think of the dire situation they had been in back then. When the customary call from the dark mark came and Regulus had not presented himself in front of his former Lord, Voldemort had gone spare, killing three new foot soldiers and torturing countless others. The Blacks were a very politically powerful family, and knowing that neither the disgraced Black heir nor the second in line to the title had decided to follow Voldemort had been a severe blow to the man's influence and recruitment rate. Since, after that, the war had tended to go more and more in favor of the light, with them winning fight after fight and the morale going up, Regulus' change of heart had ended coming at the worst time possible, therefore making him carry the brunt of the Dark Lord's rage.

It was because of this grim state of affairs that the Black family had been forced to go into hiding, making people as prominent in Death Eater circles as Narcissa have to resort to hiding because of her connection to the traitor Regulus.

"Remember how I told you that I couldn't fake being dead because the Dark Lord could sense us through our marks? Last year, after cousin Narcissa came to live with us, I remembered about a book. An incredibly dark book written by one of our battiest ancestors –just to be clear, you are under no circumstances allowed to go near any book from _that_ collection– that mentioned in passing a story about one of the Necromancers from the line of Black, who, in an attempt to get revenge from one of her rivals, developed a curse to free all of the man's slaves, severing his connection to them."

Leo had heard the story before, back when they had first found about the possibility of such a spell being hidden somewhere in the Black Gilmore. One of the Black women in the 1400's had developed the spell; officially, she claimed it was because the man had been mistreating his servants. Unofficially, everyone was pretty sure that the unlucky sod had somehow conned his ancestor, who then decided to steal all of his slaves as repayment for her lost money. He snuggled closer to his Dad, thinking about what it would mean for him if they had somehow found out how to perform the spell. His father had been living in the shadow for fear of the Dark Lord's retribution for years by now –something that had taken a severe toll on the man– and maybe, if Leo was being honest with himself, he wanted to be able to go out and play with his Dad, like the normal kid he'd never before had the chance of being, without having to fear for both of their lives.

"You found the spell?" He guessed.

"Yes actually, we did. It was in one of the older books, we would probably have overlooked it had it not been for the mess you and Draco made in the library last week. It turns out that the volume this particular ritual was hidden in doubled as the foundations of the north tower of your castle." He smiled at Leo.

"That is great! You won't have to hide anymore!" The younger Black jumped in enthusiasm, a wide beaming smile overtaking his expression.

Regulus chuckled, taking advantage of the opportunity to tickle his son, who shirked with laughter and started wriggling around the bed, trying to get away from arm's reach. He could understand now why his aunt would cry at this news, it would be great, to stop the dark mark from being a threat to their security any longer. Once their impromptu celebration had ended Leo sat back down again in the bed, waiting for his father to finish explaining what had to be done.

Tucking Leo back to his former place against his side, Regulus looked at the glowing miniature of the face he saw everyday in the mirror pillowed against his chest before continuing, knowing his son wouldn't take the second part of this news as cheerfully.

"You remember, when we first talked about it, how I explained it as a spell that would sever the Dark Lord's hold on my mark? I am afraid that in my ignorance I oversimplified the process." He started cautiously "It seems to be that even though the general objective is the same, the execution was a bit more difficult than I had imagined, since instead of consisting of a single spell to be cast it is rather a lengthy ritual that requires me to be put in a magically induced sleep for its duration."

"How" Was the single answer from the solemn three year old.

"It isn't supposed to last long, and if everything goes well by the time Halloween rolls around I'll be a free man once again. Your grandmother Walburga has already started the preparations, seeing as we need to air the ritual chamber and gather some ingredients for potions and the like in anticipation for the actual ritual. I can walk you though it if you want, before I go under, but the baseline is that two weeks before the 31st, at the night of the new moon, I will fall into a potions-based sleep, which should last for between four days and a week, while your grandparents perform the ceremony to loosen the hold of the mark. After that, I should wake up and infuse the tattoo with magic again, so that I am the only one able to command it."

"And you will be okay?" Leo asked, even though he was reasonably sure that his father wouldn't be putting so much on the line if he hadn't already though through at least three contingency plans in case something went wrong with the ritual. His Dad had not been a slytherin for nothing after all.

"Yes. I am just about certain that everything will go according to plan, and then we can start devising for a way to stop the Dark Lord from killing the Potters and my brother."

With a last shared smile, Regulus proceeded to erect the customary wards to stop them from being overheard, before he spent the rest of the morning doing just that.

Hours of discussion had only given way to a half baked plan from Cor Lenois' part; a plan which Regulus refused to let him go through, seeing as it involved his only son actually sacrificing himself to the mad man in the name of granting the Potters a love based protection of all things. He knew, theoretically, that the kid wasn't really his son -and was in fact, mentally at least, his age- but he'd never seen the little baby as anything more than that –a baby. Therefore, it was easier to think of Cor as a tike he had to protect, rather than a peer, something promoted by the little boy's wide-eyed innocence and genuinely childish attitude. He suspected that his son had been reborn as a baby so that he could have the chance at the childhood he'd been denied in his previous life. Regulus thought that up to now he'd been doing a right good job of giving little Leo that chance. After all, adopted or not, he was his father, and he intended to play that role to perfection.

The parent for his part, was partial towards the idea of pretending to have overheard the day and time of the hit in a Death Eater meeting and taking the information to the Potters directly, seeing as they would not dare to disregard his warning if he had been able to bypass their fidelius –a particularly useful skill that had been made possible because his son still remembered the address from the future, having been part of the charm.

In the end, seeing as neither plan was predominantly clever nor had superior chances of success, they settled upon visiting the Potters as soon as Regulus had been able to get rid of his dark mark -giving them about a week to prepare for the attack– and then reviewing their plan of action if the Potters had not reacted in a way that would keep them alive. The only problem Leo saw with this plan was that it did not allow for the defeat of Voldemort to take place, something that he felt should happen sooner rather than later, and while his father agreed on that part, he still insisted that as much as he had seen, while Leo was still a baby then he would not be taking part in breaking down any illicit empires. Because –as much as it pained everyone in wizarding Britain to admit it– that was just what England was quickly becoming; the Dark Lord's domain.

Eventually they stopped talking to go down and have lunch with the rest of the family –a daily occurrence that always left Leo wanting to tear his hair out – because, as much as he loved his new family and knew that they loved him back, the fact still remained that all of his relatives were snotty blood purists. Therefore, Walburga had taken to trying to educate him every single meal, not only commenting on his manners, but oftentimes throwing out little racial tidbits and nuggets of prejudice his way. As a countermeasure, Leo decided that it was time that he started his 'why' phase. He vaguely remembered having heard that all kids went through it, and judging by his families' faces, they had been expecting he started to question everything sooner or later. Only, looking at Walburga, one could clearly see that raising the point of why _exactly_ some magical races were inferior to others was not the type of query that she'd been anticipating having to answer. The fact that he was not satisfied with the answer until his grandfather Orion stepped in with a comprehensive historical explanation –complete with reference books he could ask his Dad to read him later– that detailed the basis from which the prejudices had sprouted did not help to alleviate the amused exasperation that everyone often showed at mealtimes. This also had the side effect of making him understand where people like Malfoy came from a bit better, since it seemed that –while most prejudices were as unfounded as the muggle skin color concern– there were quite a bit of social problems that could have been solved by reinstating some of the forbidden arts if only the dark purebloods that supported the change had not taken to killing every possible opponent –and sometimes even their allies– instead of debating the issue like the civilized people they though themselves to be.

It was during that afternoon's post meal lecture, this time on werewolves of all things, that Leo remembered that his magic had been exited that day, and he should have taken his time that morning to play with it before it became antsy.

After Leo had finished his dessert, they had all adjourned to the living room for another history lesson, trying to explain to him that, while potions like the wolfsbane had been invented, the discovery was only recently made, and did not mean that a werewolf was any less dangerous with it than without it –and looking at Fenrir Greyback he could admit that they might have had a point– making them deceased beasts that should be avoided. It was this argument that made him remember his past life's Remus Lupin, the kind, timid man that a society comprised of people like the Blacks had torn down for something that not only he had been unable to control, but that he'd hated about himself; the man who had been the one to first take an orphaned Harry Potter under his wing, telling him all the tales about his parents that he'd always longed to hear, even after torturing himself for years after their betrayal. Remembering Lupin, worst of all in the context of the conversation they were having, was making Leo's temper fray, and the weird itching that had started half-way though the meal and persisted beneath his skin was not helping matters at all, but rather fuelling his indignation.

He could see his Dad shooting him bemused looks at his prominent frown and near constant scratching, something that was becoming notorious if the confused and concerned faces all around were anything to go by, but his anger refused to abate, and it was a nearly thoughtless comment from his grandmother –about how werewolf hunting had been even better than muggle hunting before it was outlawed– that brought all of his feeling to a fit.

Walburga had been in the middle of explaining why the night before the new moon was the best time of the month to go on a hunt when she suddenly found herself dowsed in a torrent of water, as if a faucet had been opened on top of her head and now refused to close, drenching her and slowly flooding the living room at number twelve. It was the steam that started to rise when the water reached his feet that made Leo realize he had literally lightened up on righteous indignation, as his body –rigid posture, closed fists and scowl– was now surrounded by a ball of fire. That explained the itching then. He spent a few minutes transfixed, looking at the fire budding from his tiny fist before looking up at his Dad, whose only reaction was to raise a questioning eyebrow at his son.

Realizing that the whole scene had been occasioned by his angry magic –he'd forgotten about this morning's feeling in light of his father's revelation regarding the dark mark– Leo concentrated on his breathing, trying to remember which pattern exactly his aunt had showed him for when he needed to calm down quickly. A breathing pattern that had been developed by the Blacks centuries ago, given that their explosive tempers did not tend to mix well with magic, and which was extraordinarily helpful when trying to deal with both his own temper and his capricious magic.

It took him a solid half-hour before he could calm down and not start a tempest inside the house at the faintest remark from his family. Looking on the bright side, He could see that little Draco found the whole incident great fun, if the way he dissolved into peals of laughter was anything to go by. The same could not be said for the rest of his family though. Oh, his grandparents were ecstatic with his display of power at such a young age –after all, children typically didn't start dealing with accidental magic until around four or five years old, something Leo suspected had to do with self-awareness– but his Dad was a whole other story.

At first, Leo had though that –being eighteen years old– he would have loathed to go back to being a kid, having parents and being fussed over, something he could distinctly remember hating whenever he visited the borrow. He knew Mrs. Weasley meant well, but having been self-sufficient for most of his life, he had resented the way in which she batted aside his independence.

Nonetheless, living with the Blacks was different to what he would have expected. Leo suspected part of this was because, while he remembered having had a different life once before, he was now in effect a toddler, with toddler reactions and emotions. On top of that, the fact that he'd only known Regulus as the father of this new body helped him deal, since it made the whole relationship more legitimate in his mind. Something that he could barely tolerate from Mrs. Weasley and every other adult that had tried to mollycoddle him felt natural when it came from his new father, and so he embraced with open arms the treatment that he'd spent a childhood wishing for and his teenage years escaping from.

In the privacy of his own mind, he could sometimes admit that –maybe– the childish part of himself that he'd repressed for so long, and was only now coming out, loved being fussed over and feeling loved. Besides, his new Dad was great at maintaining the balance between the responsible father figure and the mischievous co-conspirator.

It was because of all of this that Leo bore it with good grace when his only parent sent him to his room to calm himself. He knew that his father was scared; it would have been after all, a very different story had this incident occurred in any other place rather than their own house, or even in front of other people, since then the cat would be irrevocably out of the bag.

The rest of the afternoon was spent playing with his magic, once his Dad had mellowed out and allowed him out of his room.

As he got more comfortable with his new magic, the process through which he let it out to play had started to change. The very first time Cor had been taken to the backyard and instructed to let out his magic he had been both uncomfortable and uneasy for the newly discovered mage. The Yule disaster having taken place only the day before, Leo had slammed his magic inside and had taken to keeping it in check with an iron grip, lest he relaxed for a minute and it decided to level the house. So, being told to let it all go did not sit well with him at the moment.

However, as soon as he relaxed his grip on it, he could feel from his magic, not the annoyance he had been expecting from it at having been kept in check, but rather a sense of finally being able to breathe deeply. The liberation that came with giving his magic free reign was something he'd previously only been able to identify with the levity of flying.

Since then, letting his magic run free had only gotten easier. Some days, his magic would take control, summoning a wind that ripped everything from the ground or steeping into the grass and making it grow, depending on its mood. Other times, his magic would simply envelop him as a friend, staying by his side and awaiting his command so that they could go and roam together.

In Leo's mind this were the best instances, when his magic stayed by his side, feeding him comfort or mischievousness, and acting more as a loyal friend than a force that he could command at his will. This were the instances that left him feeling euphoric for longer that they should have, and that allowed him to completely relax, feeling as he had a friend that would follow him through life, growing with him and protecting him to the best of its abilities.

.

It was only a few short weeks after that Leo was for the second time in his life having a birthday party with the Blacks.

Despite the knowledge that his little counterpart had, just the day before, celebrated that dooming first birthday, Leo couldn't help but be happy. Really, what three-year-old could be anything but happy when presented with the opulence of the House of Black, especially if all of it was focused on him. Granted, a great number of his presents were of the Walburga Black persuasion –meaning that they consisted of proper dress robes or a toy elf that sprouted pureblood history when you hugged it– but whatever their nature, they were still _presents_ for _him_. Besides, his Dad and auntie's gifts more than made up for all of it, and still, even if their gifts had been more dragon plushies –he had six and counting, really, he'd loved the first couple, but after a while the gift got repetitive –or yet another pair of matching dress robes and cape, he would have still loved them solely based on the fact that he was getting presents, _as a kid_. The Harry of his past life had never been congratulated on his birthday, much less been thrown a party or given a gift until he'd been old enough to go to Hogwarts, where everyone was too insecure to openly admit they loved their family or appreciated their friends. The fact that as a three year old he was getting the experience of being lavished with gifts and being spoilt rotten meant too much for him on principle to ever be able to find fault with any of the festivities. Even if, as he'd found out, 'hunt the muggle' was a popular party game, he couldn't be discouraged because he liked too much the idea of being loved, of belonging, and being so appreciated that the prim and proper Blacks went through all the trouble of wrapping presents in ridiculous patterns and hiding them around the house for him.

Nevertheless, his Dad's birthday gift was something he'd treasure forever. Narcissa had just given him a soft little quaffle replica to play with when his Dad went to look for his present. Apparently, it was a popular gift for five year olds, and giving it to him so young was not something that the older Blacks approved of –except, of course, his Dad –but Leo appreciated it just the same. The ball was supposed to double as a little pillow when he was tired, and if he wanted to play with it then he would have to ask a grown up to tap it with their wand so as to activate the hover charm. All that was missing now was a snitch, but he knew that there was no way that he'd convince anyone to buy one to him at his current age, so he would have to make do with playing catch with his Dad. He'd teach Draco too as soon as the little tike was old enough to run around the house with him. He was in the middle of squishing the ball to his chest with all his strength when his father came back down with a wrapped box.

Letting go of his new toy, Leo run up to Regulus to claim his new present, with no idea of what could possibly be inside the box. It was therefore, quite surprising when, the moment he touched the unopened gift, he could feel his magic rising up inside of him, ruffling his dark wavy hair with a conjured wind.

"Whoa, what is in there?"

Regulus got down on his knees, lowering himself to Leo's height before putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Originally, I was going to give you some quidditch paraphernalia. However, looking around the black library for information on my upcoming ritual, I found the diary of one of our dragon taming ancestors, who was trying to develop a spell to control the weather in his reserve for the Black family Gilmore. I don't think it was every really possible for him to control the weather, but the base equations he created gave me the idea of making you this."

As Regulus talked, Leo tore away the paper, feeling his excitement at the mysterious hand-made present escalate along with his magic. Opening it up, he took out a crystal ball, immediately coming to mind an image of Professor Trelawney hunched upon a similar item and predicting his overly-dramatized death. When he touched it though, he could see the sphere coming to life, conjuring inside it a series of rapidly changing seasons and weather conditions, going in the span of a few seconds from a winter blizzard, to a summer thunderstorm and finally settling on a sunny spring day, showing blooming flowers and a radiant sun.

"It should manipulate the elements with your magic, settling on whatever best represents your current mood. It turns out that crystal balls are unusually useful for conjuration, given that they are made especially to be able to represent inside them any image or element, so that they can provide grater accuracy for the future. I thought it would be nice for you to have something to which your magic can relate, besides giving you an easier time of recognizing your moods." His Dad finished, giving him a _look_ –after all, he had been there the day Leo thought that his magic being exited to go out to play meant that he was being possessed.

"Thanks!" He threw his arms around his Dad's neck, loudly proclaiming, in that way only children seem to be able to pull off, that it was the best birthday present ever and it made both him and his magic very happy, though it probably had made Regulus just as happy to make it.

Leo knew that his Dad had a bit of a mad scientist streak, and that he loved to take things apart and build them again, poking into anything to know how it worked. It was a habit born out of his endless curiosity, and something that he was starting to instill in his child. Nevertheless, he hadn't had much time for research lately, being caught up in surviving the war, the horocrux hunt and getting rid of the dark mark, so the opportunity to play around with a crystal ball, and engineer something which would be one of a kind and only compatible with Leo's magic was a godsend, giving him the opportunity to both satisfy his curiosity and try to give the best birthday present he could make to his son.

After opening all of his presents Leo decided to put some of them to good use. Not being used to even owning as many toys as his family had given him today, he started by organizing them first, putting all of the toys separated from the clothes, which were also apart from the plushies or the more educational gifts. Surveying his little pile of actual toys, Leo was sure that he'd be waking up any minute now. This was truly too good to be true. Something must have shown in his expression, because he could feel his father's curious face on him, no doubt wondering what had upset his son when minutes before he'd been brimming with laughs.

The minute Leo raised his head to meet his father's eyes; he could see the emotions cycling through them, enough to distinguish the initial understanding of his mood, which promptly changed into murderous rage, as he guessed at the source of much of his misery. Not for the first time, Leo really wished that his Dad would never meet the Dursleys.

He prayed that no Black member would ever have any reason to go looking for the Dursley family, for that matter. They were after all, the biggest bigots that Leo had ever had the pleasure of being related to. He shuddered to think of the screaming match that would ensue from putting Magic hating Vernon in the same room as Muggle hating Aunt Cassiopeia. Leo balked at the though, trying to picture the bloody mess.

Dragging himself from those thoughts, Leo turned to look for his Uncle Ignatius, one of his nicer non death-eating relations, just in time to see the man open a box from Honeydukes. Cor Leonis smiled, that was exactly his kind of present

It was in a similar manner that Leo spent the rest of the day, receiving an endless amount of gifts but never letting the sphere which now rested on a place of honor on his bedside out of sight.

He was glad, when thinking back upon it, that he'd let his Dad change his birth date to the 1st of August, as he had been planning on preserving the original 31st of July. Regulus had another idea however, given that he didn't want his kid associated with any 'born as the seventh month dies' prophesy. It was because of this that he changed the date to the first day of the eight month, given that, this way, Leo's birth wouldn't be directly associated with Voldemort's –or any Dark Lord's –demise, but was, nevertheless, close enough to the date to be able to twist the prophesy around a little in case they needed to. Claiming that the birth had happened the exact minute the seventh month had died, and had been therefore recorded as the beginning of the next.

Whenever Leo thought about it, he could admit it was quite clever, since he could be able to live his life as a normal kid, far from the wizarding world's convoluted spotlight, but still be able to confront Voldemort and convince him to come after him instead of Harry or Neville when the time for the showdown came around. Not that it was something he'd ever voice to his Dad, given that the man was liable to have a coronary if he got wind of what his kid was planning, regardless of if he was actually capable of it.

Unknown to him, Regulus had had a similar thought process, he and his fake wife had defied the mad man enough times while in his service, and he wouldn't want to paint a bigger target in any of their backs -whether for Albus Dumbledore or Voldemort was still to be seen - by having his kid associated with that self-fulfilling drivel.

.

The following month went quicker than Leo would have liked, and in no time at all he found himself holding his father's hand in a death grip, terrified of the oncoming ritual.

The Blacks had already prepared everything that they could possibly need to carry out the drawn out process of separating Voldemort's magic from his father's body, but still Leo worried. There were a lot of things that could go wrong, a lot of contingencies they hadn't planned for. He gripped his father's hand tighter, gnawing at his lip.

"Come on sweet, there is no need to frown, us Blacks have been doing this for long before rituals were acknowledged by the general magical population, certainly long before the ban" Narcissa frowned delicately "There is really no need to worry" She smiled down at him.

Leo had a hunch that they would live to regret those words.

Nevertheless he sighted, hugged his Dad one last time, and left with the Black women, hoping that his grandfather actually knew what he was doing.

* * *

 _ **About 'War and Peace': Lovely book, a bit on the long side, but totally worth it, though you might find it a bit tedious if you've got no patience for all the pomposity of the past. Also, I kind of can't help but hate the princess with the hare lip, can't remember her name, but I remember her being a first class**_ ** _annoyance._**

 _ **Im planning on updating sometime at the end of October, so don't get your hopes up about a quick chapter. Thing is I'm changing A LOT about the scene of that Halloween night 1981, and Im adding some suggestions that I received, tweaking stuff a bit. Also, I'm kind of nervous about next chapter because that's actually the thing that inspired this whole story to begin with, so I'm falling with that one. BTW, the whole ritual thing comes in the next**_ ** _installment. Also, Leo finally meets Sirius! :)_**


End file.
